Byron and Leonard were responsible for guarding the grain shipments.
The Cult of the Damned had now exposed its method of creating undead. These plague poisons only needed to be mixed into food to easily kill the living and raise them as undead.
Having learned from the previous incident, Rowan focused on overseeing grain-trade controls, barring all Cult of the Damned members from participating in or coming into contact with the Norwington Merchants' Guild's grain-shipping operations.
The warship soon reached port. After giving instructions for the docking procedures, Byron and Leonard leaned against the railing, smoking and chatting.
"This is fucking bullshit. If those undead hadn't shown up, our guild could probably have opened a factory in Southshore by now." As a proud paladin, Byron felt an inexplicable hatred for the bastards in the Cult of the Damned who toyed with life like this.
That hatred seemed embedded in the teachings of the Holy Light themselves, so much so that Byron wanted to find Kel'Thuzad right now and smash his damned skull with a warhammer brimming with Holy Light.
Leonard had always served in the military and rarely involved himself in business matters.
"So Young Master Rowan... his lordship is dead set on opening up the Lordaeron market?" Byron flicked the ash off his cigarette as he asked.
Byron nodded slightly, suppressing the anger in his chest as he answered, "The Kul Tiras market is limited, after all. Expanding into the Alliance market is inevitable."
Leonard vaguely sensed a hint of danger. "I'm afraid we've stepped on someone else's toes again."
"What's there to be afraid of? Those bloodsuckers won't be strutting around much longer. The people will be better off without those useless bastards clinging to their positions." Byron tossed his cigarette butt into the sea with a cold